When Ouida asked if it was Paul, the preacher said: “No, it is I, whose death you seal tonight.”
“My God! what brings you here?” said Ouida.
“You will not let me live,” said he, “so I have come to end existence at your feet.”
“And I,” commanded the woman, with wondrous dignity, “pronounce against such base-born cowardice. You build your grief up mountain high, and then make oath you stand alone.”
“I will not argue this thing with you. I am determined on my course.”
“Unhappy man,” she said, with mighty pity, “do you think you bear all the agony of this dream? I, too, am full of sorrow as deep and black as night.”
“Then all the more reason,” said he, desperately, “that we should end it all together.”
“Agreed,” said Ouida, and as she spoke, she handed him a jeweled dagger. “Waste no time,” she urged. “Plunge this deep into my heart, then draw it forth and join me in eternity.”
He quickly seized the proffered weapon, raised it high in the air, and was about to sink it into her bared breast, when they heard Paul’s footsteps approaching. The dagger dropped from his nerveless hand. He covered his face with his hand, exclaiming: “Shame upon me, that I, in unmanly weakness, should have entertained so hideous a resolve!”